


Do Something Crazy

by ghettoassenglishman



Series: Take my hand--Take My Whole life too [65]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:06:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4233291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off Anon Prompt : "Gallavich prompt?? The fluffiest marriage proposal you can think of. </p><p>And </p><p>"Imagine your OTP sitting on the top of a bus shelter in the middle of the night star-gazing together."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Something Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing marriage proposals!!! I felt that a really really fluffy prompt would be something like this for them - I couldn't picture Mickey on a bed full of roses, as much as I dream of it, so I hope you like this:)

The cold breeze flows through Ian's coat as he and Mickey stroll casually back from the Gallagher house. It had been a day and night of loud, disruptive normal Gallagher behaviour, plus the barrelling fury of Frank which Mickey quickly took care of. Mickey was both tired and thoroughly exhausted from the days thunder of noise and just wanted to get back and drop his head onto the pillow. (And to have Ian cuddle around him, but that wasn't something he wanted to admit. Ian's head was already too big for that.)

Ian's a little different, he feels something needs to be done, that they need to stay out just a little longer to enjoy the night time breeze and mild summer heat. Despite his stable med's and slowly resolving sleeping pattern, Ian was always wide awake during these times. Mickey is steaming ahead, puffing out smoke from his cigarette. Ian rushes behind him, laughing a little playfully as he latched his hand around Mickey's wrist, pulling him back. "Hey, Mick."

Mickey jolts with shock, his cigarette practically falling from his lips. In retaliation, he stutters, "What - what the hell you doing?" He raises his brow, giving Ian a questioning look due to his sudden giddy state that Mickey didn't even realise existed till now.

Ian opens and closes his mouth before he feels Mickey's expression grow in impatience. "Let's do something." He whispers, he's not even sure why he was, but he felt the excitement bounce on his toes.

Mickey blows the smoke into Ian's face, blurring Ian's vision for a little while as his frown deepened. "Why the fuck are you whispering, you ass." He tugs his hand from Ian's grip, sighing a little when Ian's face shadowed in hurt from the silent rejection.

Ian slaps his hands against his sides, unsure of how to explain his sudden rush in adrenaline. Mickey sighs, taking a drag from his smoke before rubbing a hand down his face in tiredness. "Come on, man, lets just go home and go to fucking sleep. I get that you're this wild night owl but a man's gotta sleep."

Mickey goes to walk off, but Ian desperately pulls him back. His look has shifted, he knows Mickey is a little pissed off but he feels he really needs this. It had been a while since they did something together, shared a moment that was so rare it almost felt like gold. His eyes light up as Mickey stops in his tracks. He leans in a little, whispering purposely. "Let's do something crazy."

Mickey frowns, trying to work out what the hell Ian was thinking. He face slowly curls up into a smirk, he glances around instinctively before taking Ian's hand and pulling him down the side-walk.

                    ***  
"Mick, this is not exactly what I call crazy."

They ended up walking down to an abandoned bus shelter. Ian's first thoughts were a bus ride to nowhere, getting off at any stop and just wondering the streets for a bar or some crappy, typical hostel. Instead, Mickey had other ideas. He had climbed up eagerly onto the top of the shelter, before reaching down and helping Ian up after him. Ian had been hesitant at first, re-thinking his choices of doing something wild and spontaneous.

Ian wouldn't class climbing to the top of an old, shitty bus shelter crazy, but as cheesy as it sounded, Ian was happy he could be with Mickey alone for once.

Mickey had managed to steal a bottle of wine from the near-by store and they both sat, side by side, ontop of the bus shelter, passing the bottle of wine back and forth in the midst of their chatter.

Mickey sighs, taking an earned swig from the bottle. "You want to go skydiving or some shit? What did you expect." He passes the bottle to Ian, watching carefully through habit, and because Ian's lips did something to him, the way they wrapped around the bottle reminded him too much about Ian wrapped around him.

Ian snorts, drinking some wine before resting it between his legs. A bus drives past, jolting him a little until he felt Mickey's protective hand curl around the bent bone of his knee. Ian chews at his lip, trying to hide back his smile. He drinks. "You're too chicken shit to jump out of a plane, so no, I wouldn't expect it."

Mickey' turns his head, shocked with his mouth agape. His face splits into a challenging smile that matches Ian's completely. "You little shit-" Mickey charges, straddling Ian in an awkward, most likely dangerous position, where he started to tickle Ian's sides.

Ian squirms, chuckling loudly as he tried to move from Mickey's fingers. He places the wine beside them before flipping them against the shelter and dug his fingers into his sides. "Chicken shit!" Ian laughs, tackling Mickey tightly so he had no chance to move. Well, that was until Ian comes close to toppling over the edge of the shelter.

Mickey's eyes widen, mostly with fear but with a slight confusion before be realises where they actually are. He moves quickly to wrap his arms around Ian's waist, pulling onto his body and back to safety. Ian starts giggling, the alcohol taking its toll on him easily. Mickey feels its contagious, his own laugh echoing down the empty street.

Ian's body shakes in his laugh, he lifts his head with a dopey grin. Mickey rolls his eyes, hands absently trailing down Ian's arms. Ian's giggles dim as he speaks with humor, "My hero."

Mickey scoffs, he knew he didn't have the right to hold that title - due to his reputation and previous activities - but, he didn't mind Ian's voice speaking those words. He shoves at Ian's drunken chest, only lightly incase Ian actually fell off and hurt his idiot ass. "Fuck off, man."

Another bus goes by and they both turn onto their backs, watching as it drove by basically empty. Ian sighs dramatically, scooting closer to Mickey on the top of the bus shelter. Thank god it was big enough, flat enough, for the both of them otherwise this would be a crazy something that would end up in the A&E.

Ian grabs for the bottle, sloppily swallowing down the spirit. He looks up towards the sky, eyes glistening towards the stars that we out for the first time in what felt like years. "Mick?"

"What?" Mickey grumbles, turning his face to Ian. 

Ian lets a giggle bubble, before smiling up to the stars. It was strange to think he was doing that exact thing, just a couple of years back, in the middle of the junk-yard field, his mom banging some young, buff, hillbilly as Ian tried to think about the consequences of his disorder. "Do you ever just look at the stars? Like really look at them?"

Mickey frowns, struck back by the weird question. He looks back up, then over to Ian, with a scoff he shakes his head. "Nah man, why the fuck would I do that, they're boring as shit." They were, to an extent, then again - Mickey never really looked at the stars for answers, not back then, he usually looked to the barrel of a gun for answers.

Ian expected that answer, his smile clear even through the dark light of the night. "You should." He comments, putting his hand before his face, letting the breeze flow through his fingers delicately.

Mickey stays quiet in his pause, watching Ian's face light up towards the sky. He wants to hold his hand, squeeze his fingers against his own, kiss against his knuckles because he realised why Ian would look at the stars, trying to find answers before all the betrayal he felt his life had given him. "Why's that?" He asks, generally interested in Ian's response.

"Oh, you know," Ian starts, stuttering with his explanation. He's ready to spur out some intellectual answer about the stars being light years away, already dead but still shining, but he doesn't bother. He just goes for the obvious. The truth. "Who wouldn't? They're beautiful."

Mickey nudges his leg against Ian's, swigging the rest of the wine. "And you're a fucking dork, you know that?"

"I'm glad." Ian randomly blurts, his words more angsty now. Mickey turns to the side again, raising his brow as he failed to understand what Ian was blabbing about. "What the fuck for? You being a dork?" He laughs to himself, chucking the bottle behind them into a nearby tree.

Ian watches, clenching his jaw as the bottle fell through the branches, smashing to the concrete path. "Mick." He warns, receiving the known Mickey glare that he didn't plan on wanting to get rid of. Ian runs a hand through his hair, enjoying the buzz turning like clock work through his body. "No, I'm glad it worked out in the end."

Mickey sticks his tongue to the side of his mouth, ready to run in the first sign of a deep, sentimental conversation that was ready to break, instead he nudges Ian's leg again. A silent reminder, to Ian, that he felt that way too. "I wouldn't say we have it all worked out, but it's good what we've got."

Their life, relationship, Yevgeny, Mandy finally coming back from Indiana, Hell - even Svetlana was a good part of his life now. Mickey had never been happy, nor would he have expected to be, but some-how Ian changed that completely.

Ian smiles, bright and content, his eyes slightly watering but he'd just pretend its delayed hay fever than admit he always got emotional when he bad been drinking. He slides his own hand into Mickey's, looking up towards the brunette as if he was ready to give him the world. "It is, isn't it?"

Mickey looks down to their enclosed hands; the way they fit so perfectly, how the letters on his knuckles looked less threatening against the white, freckled hands that belonged to the person he wanted to protect the most. "Yeah," he breathes, almost in a daze.

Ian hums, kissing their hands before glancing back up towards the stars. The shelter is cold against his back, even through his jacket, but as usual he felt Mickey's body radiate this heat that would shower over the whole of his body.

The silence is cut with Mickey's suddenly shy, but devoted voice. He crosses the pad of his thumb over Ian's knuckle, grinning at the dent still lodged at the bone. He'd never forget that one day Ian saved his ass from a bunch of dealers - even if Mickey had tried to big himself up afterwards - Ian hadn't hesitated to beat the shit out of the guys, fracturing his own knuckle in the process. He breathes out heavily, sending a shiver up Ian's spine. "I need to tell you something."

Ian's hand tightens around his own, his eyes sickening with fear. This was it. Mickey had had enough. This was the end to them, or so be thought. What else could it be? Mickey never just wanted to talk about something. By the look of seriousness in his eyes, Ian knew this was something that had been niggling at Mickey's mind for a while. "What is it, Mick?" Ian whispers, dreading the worst.

What if he's joking? What is "something" was just another word for kissing, or some ridiculous pun he found on the internet. Maybe he was going to tell him the score of the game that they missed, or the fact that Yevgeny drew all over the walls and he's politely trying to ask Ian to paint over it.

What if he wanted to flee into the Finnish culture and was set to fly to Finland the next day. Wait. What, no.

Ian scoffs at his own idiocy, pressing his lips together when Mickey turns with a frown, unable to read Ian's mind. Sometimes Ian was grateful for that. Fucking Finland.

Mickey clears his throat, tapping one hand against his shirt. "Me and 'Lana got divorced." He looks over to Ian, waiting for a reaction that he had replayed so many times in his head during the day.

Ian's stunned. His body is unsure how react, because, really, for years now it had been the three of them in a little family unit that took care of Yev,  and Ian had never really noticed that Svetlana was even still married to Mickey. He leans up against his elbows, words unable to form with shock, "Wait, what?"

Did Mickey do this for the reason Ian suddenly could remove from his head, or did Svetlana finally get her green card and was legally aloud to stay in the country without marriage consent.

Mickey sighs, ignoring Ian's question he rattles off with the details, trying to make it clear why he did it in the first place. "I mean, its only been official for one day. I let her keep the last name, because you know, She's still family, but yeah, uh, I'm not legally bonded to an angry Russian woman. " he scratches the back of his neck, eyes dancing over to the slightly trembling redhead sat beside him.

Ian laughs, he fucking laughs, his hand threading through his hair repeatedly as he addressed the information and absorbed it. They weren't married. Mickey wasn't legally bonded to Svetlana anymore. Ian didn't mind if he still was, hell, he loved Svetlana as a sister - it didn't bother him that she had been married to Mickey, even though some people say it should. He scrunches his eyebrows together, "Holy shit, Mick. Why, uh, why would you do that."

Mickey squeezes Ian's fingers, biting at his lip in realisation that he would have to explain himself in the end. There was a reason for not telling Ian that he and Svetlana had been planning this for months, he wanted Ian to be surprised. Come on, man, don't make me spell it out for you." He shakes his head, reaching into his pocket, in which Ian's eyes widen, instead he pulls out his packet of smokes, lighting one off to distress and combine his next words.  

Ian shrugs, eyes locking to their other hands still pressed together. Mickey exhales, looking over to Ian with hooded eyes. "How many years we been together?" He asks, out of the blue, smirk playing at his lips, hopelessly trying to hide behind his hard exterior.

Ian had a way of breaking through that.

Ian racks his brain, rubbing a hand to the back of his head, before simply putting it as, "Too many to count." Despite the fact, they both knew it wasn't that long, it still felt like an eternity, something that won't pass and wouldn't ever.

"Exactly," Mickey starts, passing the smoke to the other man, shuffling himself up onto his own elbows. A bus goes past and he nearly loosing his track of words, he looks towards Ian for inspiration, hope, and he finds it through the younger boys soft, waiting expression. "We've been together a very long fucking time. We're basically the all American fucking married couple, why not sign a piece of fucking paper that makes it real. " he feels himself rambling, just like Ian would, and he needs time to breathe.

Ian has no idea if what he's hearing is a dream or, in fact, reality. He's not sure whether Mickey is playing some game, or mocking him for getting excited ever since gay marriage had been legalised in all fifty states. His heart beats fast, like the motor of a high speed vehicle, controlling him but close to knocking off the tracks. He realises, when he sees Mickey's pale complexion, the way his eyes were nearly popping out from his head, his hand slightly shaky against his own, waiting for an answer that Ian was only able to give.

Instead, Ian smirks. "I wouldn't say All American."

Mickey bites back his laugh, defying the truth as he swatted Ian's chest a couple of times. Ian catches his wrists, looking straight up to him as Mickey hovered his body close to his. Mickey licks at his own lip, nervousness radiating off his body as if his aurora was shining through. "Shut the fuck up and say something useful." He whispers.

Ian giggles, the buzz slightly wearing off from the wine but instantly rebooting itself with the touch of Mickey's fingers against his skin. The cold peaks up his jacket, the hard top of the shelter still rock solid below him, he glances over the edge before smiling up to Mickey. Ian feels the heat in his chest build rapidly, "You, uh, you really want to marry me?"

Mickey sighs heavily, rolling his eyes through the stupidity laced in Ian's voice. God, Ian could be so dumb sometimes. He swats Ian's chest, "No, I want to marry fucking Lip. What do you think?"

"I think-"

Mickey pushes his finger against Ian's moving lips. "Listen, asshole, you wanted to know so shut the hell up." He raises his brow, dominantly. Ian only nods, his hands reaching to the small of Mickey's back. Mickey chews his lip, "Of course I want to marry you, you ass, I wouldn't make myself look like some darn idiot for nothing."

Ian snorts through the layer of Mickey's hand that is now clasped to his face. Mickey's obviously messing, right? Marriage wasn't on Mickey's list despite how prioritized it was in Ian's, right? Ian takes one look to Mickey, his whole expression telling a different story. He was being serious. He wanted to marry Ian. Ian's eyes grow wide, like a deer caught in the headlights. When Mickey drops his hand from Ian's face, Ian only replaces it with his own. Eyes glazed, tears ready to fall, he feels his heart smack against his chest. " I don't know- I don't know what to say."

Mickey slides off the side, "Well, I'm hoping you say yes..otherwise.." He reaches into his coat pocket, anxiously rummaging through the cluttered mess that lived inside of it. Ian's heart beat harder each time Mickey pulled out recite after recite, lighter after lighter, until he found what he wanted."... this fucking thing is going to go to waste."

Ian's whole face lights up. Mickey's holding a velvet, black box between his fingers. Mickey's expression draws the conclusion of fear, but more than anything hope. Ian feels his whole body crawl with heat, his face all flushed, eyes all watery, hands all shaking against his face. "I, uh." Mickey passes him the box.

Slowly, Ian opens it. Before him inside of the small, tucked box , lay a delicate black ring, when he took a closer look, he could clearly see Mickey's initials carved into the black surface. Ian feels his heart explode. He had no words. None at all. For once, he felt speechless. "Mick, holy fucking - what, when, how?"

Mickey shrugs, brushing it off. He surrenders his hands in the air, chuckling. "All legal, I swear."

Ian narrows his eyes, scoffing under his breath. "That's hard to believe."

Over the years, Mickey had become some-what a respectable citizen, but you can't take a Milkovich away from a Milkovich.

"Okay, okay." Mickey gives in, sitting up completely, crossing his legs. Ian's still not given an answer, and it was making Mickey's skin itch. He nudges Ian's knee. "Okay, legal on my behalf. Iggy nabbed it from that rich joint on 26th. "

Ian snorts loudly, falling back a little when his laugh echoes through the empty street. It was typical and Ian loved it. Despite the fact they stole it, it was Mickey all over and Ian really didn't give a shit if some rich fuck lost out on one ring. "Just-" Ian finds himself speechless.

Mickey nudges him again, trying to make Ian get the right words out as his own heart felt on the verge of bursting in anticipation. Ian giggles, his whole body in a rush of electricity.  Mickey wanted to fucking marry him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life stuck with Ian. "I don't understand, I mean yes of fucking course, obviously, but why now? Why on the top of some shitty bus shelter?"

Its a question Mickey finds himself struggling to answer. He hadn't planned to propose on the top of a bus shelter - he hadn't even thought of how to do it - but right place, right time, all of that. The light in Ian's eyes was something that Mickey hoped for, more than planned. He scoots closer to the redhead, who was still dazed and enchanted by the ring propped into the box. "You said to do something crazy, and if marrying you is fucking crazy then I never want to be normal." God, never would Mickey think those words would leave his mouth.

Without thought, Ian rushes to kiss Mickey. His lips latch to Mickey's, soft hitting rough, and Mickey moans into it as Ian's tongue licks through the seam of his lips. Ian's hand, that isn't clasped tightly to the velvet box, and scoops it to the back of Mickey's neck. Its an awkward position due to their surroundings, but somehow he manages to slip in-between Mickey's legs. When he pulls away, he rubs the pad of his thumb along the line of Mickey's cheekbone. "You almost sound romantic."

Mickey pushes him back, slapping his arm as Ian's chuckles get louder and louder. "Fuck off, that's because I am." He adjusts his jacket, before smirking towards Ian, heart at the top layer of his skin, ready to burst through. Ian's red hair wavers through the soft wind, strands brushing against his forehead. Mickey tried his hardest not to push back that hair, kiss him, crawl between his legs and wrap his arms around him.

Mickey moves closer to Ian, hand absently finding itself around Ian's lean waist. "Now, are you going to be my fucking husband or what?" And God, he only hoped for one answer.

Ian's face breaks into a smile, his fingers close the box, running smoothly over the velvet fabric. Slowly, he leans in, surprising Mickey almost completely, and he kisses against his lips. They kiss slowly, Ian's hand trails over the nape of Mickey's neck, eyes fluttered closed as they made-out at the top of the bus shelter. Mickey lets out a slight gasp, already guessing Ian's answer, his hand protectively making its mark at the joint of Ian's hip. They shift awkwardly, Ian's body manoeuvring itself, almost angelically, with Mickey's.

He kisses down the stubble of Mickey's jaw, where he then starts to pepper light, rough kisses around his face, up his nose, down his chin, he even went as far as to kiss his eyelids. Mickey squirms, giggling like a five-year old, because Ian pulls back and looks into his eyes with wonder. Always wonder.

Ian releases his own bottom lip, his blue-green eyes settling into the state of emotion that Mickey only could recognise as happiness. Ian's voice quavers a little, words cracking at each syllable. "Yes. God yes. I'll be your fucking husband." He opens the box, taking out the ring, and slips it onto his finger. He waves it before Mickey's face, unable to remove his wide grin. He kisses Mickey again.

Mickey feels his heart burst. It wasn't a surprise that he would be stuck with Ian for the rest of his life, because he wanted that. Now they had a ring a to prove it.

Ian giggles, all hyper on the testosterone of being happy and surrounded by Mickey. He places his hand against Mickey's chest, before his lip curls up into a smirk. "Emphasis on the fucking."

   
Mickey can only laugh, body trying but failing to hide his sheer happiness that fled from Ian's words. Ian kisses him frantically, hands roaming in all directions, ring knocking against buttons and zips.

They were so entrapped with eachother that when a bus zooms past, honking its horn, they both nearly topple over the edge of the dingy bus shelter. Ian bursts into a fit of laughter, clinging to Mickey with dear life. "I love you." He breathes, pulling himself up into a safe - or some what safe- position.

Mickey keeps him steady, one arm locked around his waist. He kisses Ian's hair line, biting at his lip in a flush of his domesticate nature. Fuck it. They were engaged now, it was a vital aspect of marriage life after all.  "Yeah yeah. Now get the fuck over here."


End file.
